Miles To Go Before I Sleep
by thundercalls
Summary: My baby’s gone. Even thinking those words, standing here of all places, reading the tiny marker in the cold, hard ground… it’s hard to process. How does one deal with that? ... Read and review, please.


My baby's gone.

Even thinking those words, standing _here_ of all places, reading the tiny marker in the cold, hard ground… it's hard to process. How does one deal with that? How does one deal with losing a child? A human being that had grown inside of you for months. I certainly didn't know how, and I wish I did. I wish I knew how to move on from this horrible mistake of my son's death. My beautiful little boy.

It all started 6 months ago. I was barely two months pregnant, and I was struck by a car. I'd saved my husband's life without thinking. He was my soulmate. I'd do anything for him. I sacrificed myself, and the life of our child to save his. When I first woke up, and had the check-up to make sure the baby was still alive, I was ecstatic to hear his heartbeat. Good news, according to the doctors. But then the complications started. There were so many cases of bleeding, false contractions, every complication possible. I was told it'd be best for the sake of the baby, and mine, to terminate the pregnancy. Then as time went on, I was told it'd be the best to induce labor, because the doctors didn't believe the baby would survive birth anyways. But I knew this baby. It was mine. It was growing inside of me. I knew he could survive. He had the strength, determination, and stubbornness of both his parents. He would survive. I was sure of it.

But then I was at home one night, going about normally, my water broke. It crashed to the floor with a loud splash, and when I looked down at it, blood swam around as well. I knew something was wrong, so I called for an ambulance, but I collapsed immediately after. Next thing I knew, I was awake, three days later. My husband, Nathan, crying at my bedside as he sat vigil for me, his wife. I knew the baby was no longer inside of me. I felt incomplete without him. But I never expected to be told that the baby was _gone_. I screamed. I cried. I fought. I begged to see my son. To hold him once. To name him. I had to. I was his mother. I couldn't just hear of his death and roll over. I needed to see my son.

So they wheeled me towards where they had him. I hadn't taken a second glance at any of the faces of my friends and family in the waiting room. I just stared ahead as Nathan took me to our son. My heart ached twice as badly as it already did as I saw the words splashed across the door. It wrenched as I saw the tiny sheet covering the premature baby's body. My son's body. He was so tiny. Even if he was gone, I was still afraid he'd break as I lifted him into my arms. He was cold. Freezing. I clutched him lightly to my chest as I sobbed, my tears dotting his dry skin in fat drops. I squeezed my index finger through his little hand, and prayed that there'd been a mistake. He was still alive. If only he'd just clutch my finger. I sent silent pleas to the Heaven's to return him to me. Why couldn't I have him back? Why did my son have to die? I kept asking myself these questions as I laid him back down on the cold metal slab of the morgue table. I'd looked over my shoulder and saw the tears spilling down Nathan's face. He was in pain. But he couldn't begin to _imagine_ the pain I was in.

We had a funeral for him. Everyone showed up. Dan, Deb, Karen, Lucas, Peyton, Brooke, Skillz, Bevin, Mouth, Rachel, Whitey, Cooper, Taylor, my parents, my other sisters, they all came to say goodbye to my son. Even Dan shed a tear as they lowered the tiny coffin into the ground. I was numb. I still couldn't process this. I didn't sleep. Didn't eat. Nothing. I just… walked around in what was supposedly reality. I'd slipped into denial after leaving the morgue. This was just a horrible nightmare. I was still unconscious. Had been for several days since I went into labor. The baby was alive, and Nathan was telling him that his Mommy would wake up soon to greet him with so much love that he'd be suffocated. It was all just a nightmare. My baby was alive. He was healthy. Or I was in hell. Maybe I was dead, and this was my hell. That'd be comforting. My child would still be alive.

Two weeks later, my husband left me. I blamed him. He'd told me the story about why Daunte had really tried to run Nathan down. It was because of his actions, and eventual inaction, that _my_ son had died. He'd tried to argue that we needed money, to support ourselves, and the baby. I'd spat back at him that it didn't matter now, because there was no baby. That because he didn't either go beg to his father some more, or throw the championship game, I'd lost my child. I screamed at him to the point the neighbors called the police. When they showed up, Nathan was gone. That night, I came here for the first time since the funeral. I screamed at God. Screamed at whatever was out there listening. Asked him _why_. _Why_? When I got home, Nathan's things were gone, and a one-word note. A simple 'sorry'.

Now I'm here, standing at the grave of my son, laying a flower at the base of his marker, sitting on my knees, staring numbly at the name. Nathanial Keith James-Scott. Apparently any name that couples Keith with Scott is doomed. We'd lost two great Keith's. My Uncle through law, who had been a secondary father figure to me when I met Lucas, and also my son. My left hand reached out to brush across his name, and the sun caught my rings. I stared at them for a minute, before my right hand rose to slowly grab the rings and slip them off my fingers. Haley James Scott was no more. Haley James was long gone. I lost sight of her a very long time ago. Grief consumed me now. I didn't know who I was, but I knew I wouldn't find who I've changed into here in Tree Hill. So I laid my rings on the marker, and stood.

As I walked through the cemetery, away from my son's grave, planning on departing Tree Hill forever, I looked over at the big oak tree, and felt my breath catch in my chest. Maybe I was exhausted or out of my mind with grief, but I swore that Keith stood there with a sad smile on his face, holding a little baby boy. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I blinked them away, incidentally blinking away the vision that had been in front of me. Whether or not I'd dreamt it, at least I knew my son had family watching out for him wherever he was. I took a deep shuddering breath, and turned away. I had no idea where I was going to go, but I had to leave Tree Hill. So I got in my car, looked into the cemetery one last time, whispered _I love you_ to my son, and started to drive.

_Now leaving Tree Hill. Please come again!_

**FIN**

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I don't know why, but inspiration struck me for this at the weirdest time. I wasn't in a depressed mood or anything (I was actually rather happy!), but now I am. ( I haven't wrote fan-fiction in _ages_, so this is my attempt to test the waters again. I've never wrote a One Tree Hill fic either, so I hope you guys enjoyed this heavy piece of fiction… enough to leave a review hopefully. I'm also not used to writing in first person, so sorry if it's odd at times. And repetitive, but it's supposed to be.

For the record, I don't own or have any affiliation to One Tree Hill, its actors and actresses, or to the studios that represent the show. I'm not gaining profit from this story.


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